All recommended reverence of the Seer,
And prompt acceptance of his costly gifts. 
But Agamemnon might not so be pleased,
Who gave him rude dismission; he in wrath 470
Returning, prayed, whose prayer Apollo heard,
For much he loved him.  A pestiferous shaft
He instant shot into the Grecian host,
And heap’d the people died.  His arrows swept
The whole wide camp of Greece, ’till at the last 475
A Seer, by Phoebus taught, explain’d the cause. 
I first advised propitiation.  Rage
Fired Agamemnon.  Rising, he denounced
Vengeance, and hath fulfilled it.  She, in truth,
Is gone to Chrysa, and with her we send 480
Propitiation also to the King
Shaft-arm’d Apollo.  But my beauteous prize
Briseis, mine by the award of all,
His heralds, at this moment, lead away. 
But thou, wherein thou canst, aid thy own son! 485
Haste hence to Heaven, and if thy word or deed
Hath ever gratified the heart of Jove,
With earnest suit press him on my behalf. 
For I, not seldom, in my father’s hall
Have heard thee boasting, how when once the Gods, 490
With Juno, Neptune, Pallas at their head,
Conspired to bind the Thunderer, thou didst loose
His bands, O Goddess! calling to his aid
The Hundred-handed warrior, by the Gods
Briareus, but by men, AEgeon named.[26] 495
For he in prowess and in might surpassed
His father Neptune, who, enthroned sublime,
Sits second only to Saturnian Jove,
Elate with glory and joy.  Him all the Gods
Fearing from that bold enterprise abstained. 500
Now, therefore, of these things reminding Jove,
Embrace his knees; entreat him that he give
The host of Troy his succor, and shut fast
The routed Grecians, prisoners in the fleet,
That all may find much solace[27] in their King, 505
And that the mighty sovereign o’er them all,
Their Agamemnon, may himself be taught
His rashness, who hath thus dishonor’d foul
The life itself, and bulwark of his cause. 
To him, with streaming eyes, Thetis replied. 510
Born as thou wast to sorrow, ah, my son! 
Why have I rear’d thee!  Would that without tears,
Or cause for tears (transient as is thy life,
A little span) thy days might pass at Troy! 
But short and sorrowful the fates ordain 515
Thy life, peculiar trouble must be thine,
Whom, therefore, oh that I had never borne! 
But seeking the Olympian hill snow-crown’d,
I will myself plead for thee in the ear
Of Jove, the Thunderer.  Meantime at thy fleet 520
Abiding, let thy wrath against the Greeks
Still burn, and altogether cease from war. 
For to the banks of the Oceanus,[28]
Where AEthiopia holds a feast to Jove,[29]
He journey’d yesterday, with whom the Gods